


Love Sick

by Kato (WritersCoven)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Best Boyfriend Roger, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, Minorly implied Deacury, Sick Bri, Sickfic, Worried Freddie, emeto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritersCoven/pseuds/Kato
Summary: Brian falls ill during lecture at uni, and there's only one man he wants to make him feel better. Sadly, this man is also attending class.Fortunately for Brian, Roger Taylor has never really much cared for his courses, and he absolutely adored his boyfriend. Enough so even to risk catching the flu.





	1. Caught in a Landslide No Escape From Reality

**Author's Note:**

> **Yet another flu fic! So, I've made a 3rd collections category, called Misfits, for my fics that just don't quite seem to fit (in my mind) to my emetophobe or smile fics.**   
>  **This is because I see them, for whatever reason, as just not belonging somehow. Most of the fics will, like this one, probably be sickfics and I will absolutely take and strongly encourage requests.**   
>  **My emetophobic poodle series is also full of sickfics, but the ones you'll see in Misfits, like this, won't be focused around Brian being extremely emetophobic. In fact, in this particular one, he isn't really emetophobic at all. Although, to an extend, it could be read as a branch of emetophobia in a sense that he is afraid of the public seeing him ill.**   
>  **Anyway, I just thought I should explain that. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading!**
> 
> **Hey, this part of my little note is new! And it's going to be everywhere for a little while: Your beloved Kato was hacked darlings, multiple times! Her stuff was removed, even her pseud deleted, her passwords repeatedly changed. It's been a mess. Someone wants to shut me down! But we aren't going to let that happen, are we darlings? Nope! So,**   
>  **Enjoy the reupload! Kato out! xoxo**

Lecture just kept dragging on and on, and Brian was more than ready to walk out. His head was pounding and his stomach felt aflame with writhing lava worms, tunneling through his intestines and trying to snake their slithering way up his throat. Brian wasn’t falling for their games. He continued to sip his cup of coffee (he should have gotten water, the coffee was only further aggravating the vile beasts inside of his guts) and tried to focus in on the class.

He couldn’t even stand the sound of his teacher’s voice any longer. It was a low hum going in one ear and out the other, an unimportant buzz. Another sip of coffee. He needed to keep his stomach inside. He wasn’t about to leave in the middle of class, with all of those eyes focused on him.

That was Brian’s worst fear. He couldn’t stand to have people looking at him. He knew that they were just judging him when they looked, that they were searching for flaws or other things they could laugh at. Brian couldn’t stand embarrassment. The idea of being the class fool, or the center of attention for even a moment, gave him panic attacks. Sure, he wanted to become famous for his guitar skills, but that was different. He didn’t fear being loved. He feared being the laughing stock of the century.

_Shit._ The coffee seriously wasn’t working. The fire was engulfing his intestines with such ferocity he could feel it burning in the back of his throat.

_If he could just make it a few more minutes._

Brian knew that he needed to leave the room. He knew that he was going to be sick. But every time he put his hands on the desk and tried to coax himself into standing up, his mind went to what people would think of him walking out. _What would they say?_ Nothing good, that was certain.

_Was Roger in class yet?_ Brian couldn’t remember. His mind was too fuzzy, focused on everything else. The world felt a little brighter, a little noisier, a little hotter. He was pretty confident that Roger had class, which meant that his ride home would be the bus if he left. Brian couldn’t handle the bus in this state.

He had about twenty minutes left of class. He would still have to face the bus, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it. First, he needed to make it through the rest of this lecture. It was proving quite difficult, as he took yet another tentative sip of coffee.

That was it. The final straw. The catalyst to the equation. Brian got no warning to his sickness. The warnings had been earlier, and he had ignored them. Now, the worms were raging up his throat, hot and fast, and there was no time. He scooted his chair back, took a deep breath, and gripped his knee. _If he could just--_

It sprayed out of him, a thick and horrible mess that mostly landed on his desk and textbook. _Fuck._ The class as a collective sounded quite horrified by the turn of events. They knew the class sucked ass, but they didn’t think it was anything to _vomit_ over. He could hear their hushed murmurs all around him, could hear the gasps and gags of the crowd reacting. Reacting to him, to his sheer horror.

He felt warmth filling his cheeks. He turned in his chair, starting to grab his bag from under the desk. He wasn’t even going to try to salvage the textbook. It was thoroughly soaked. He pulled the bag into his lap, but another wave of sickness escaped him. To his utter humiliation, this time he managed to get it on the person next to him.

He wasted no time fleeing the room then. His lips and chin were a dripping, disgusting mess that he wiped furiously at with his sleeve. On his way out the door, he heaved into the crook of his elbow, praying that he didn’t do anything else again. Thankfully, he didn’t. His stomach stayed inside long enough for him to escape into the hallway, where he ducked into the nearest restroom. He shoved himself into one of the stalls and locked it, dropping his bag in front of the crack in the door. Then he crammed himself in next to the toilet and fought back the tears.

He was humiliated. Beyond humiliated. He could hardly face the idea of walking back into that hallway, much less the class. He wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

_He wanted Roger._

A wet retch tore through him, his emotions betraying the rest of his body. Coughing, he pushed himself over the toilet bowl and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears were falling now.

He wasn’t afraid of vomiting. Brian had no problems with throwing up. His issue was when people _saw_ him. And boy, had they seen him back there. _They had all seen him. A full lecture hall._ He felt horrible for the girl he threw up on, and he felt horrible for every student who had to witness the mess. Most of all, he felt horrible physically.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Brian knew that he needed to call Roger. He couldn’t ride the bus. He couldn’t even handle walking out of the restroom without wanting to have a fresh breakdown. On shaky legs, he lifted himself up and forced himself to find the nearest payphone. He wasn’t even sure he had change on him. As he grabbed his bag and flung it over his shoulder, Brian dug around inside of his pockets until he found some loose coins. He was so relieved he could have cried all over again. He slid the coins around in his fingers as he left the restroom and ducked down the hallway.

There was probably a payphone in that hallway. Brian knew he used one once before a short way past the hall in the other direction. It was too close, though. He didn’t want to risk being seen by anyone from the class.

There was a payphone outside of the building. Brian could go there. Hitching the bag higher up on his shoulder, keeping his head bowed, he hurried off in that general direction. Once he got outside, he had to navigate towards the side of the building. Eventually, however, he found it.

Ducking into the booth, Brian snatched up the phone and dropped his bag at his feet. His stomach was starting to cramp up uneasily again. The last thing he wanted to do was puke in the booth, and he only had enough change to make two calls at most. A panicked sob threatened to bubble out of his throat. He didn’t even know where Roger was. _How was he supposed to call?_

_The flat._ Brian could call the flat. Someone would still be home to pick up. Freddie and John should have still been home. Frantically, he dialed the number he knew by heart and listened, praying-- dear God, how he prayed-- that someone would answer.

When Freddie picked up, Brian did cry.

“Yes, darling?” Freddie called into the phone, flamboyant as always.

“Fred?” Brian asked, already knowing damn well he was talking to his best friend. “Freddie, is Rog there?”

“Brian? Are you alright, darling?”

“I need Roger.”

“He’s at school, sweetie. Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I was,” Brian sobbed. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the booth. He felt horribly ill once again. “I got sick.”

“Are you alright now?”

“No. I need Roger.”

“Do you have the number? You could call the office for his building, love.”

Brian shook his head before he remembered that Freddie couldn’t see him. “I don’t. I can’t call, either. I only have enough left for one other call. If they didn’t pick up--”

“Alright, love. How about I call for you?”

That was what Brian wanted all along. Sighing with relief, he wiped the tears out of his eyes. “Could you?”

“Hang on, darling. Give me five minutes, then call back. Alright?”

“Great, Fred,” he smiled. He needed to go home.

“Hang in there, love.”

Brian was trying. He really, truly was. He wasn’t entirely certain he was going to make it, but God, was he trying.


	2. Can Barely Stand on My Feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hey! An update! Remember to comment and kudos, darlings, and I hope you enjoy!**   
>  **Don't forget, dearies: I accept prompt requests for the Misfits series this belongs to! If you want to see something, ask away! I'll get to it if/when I can!**

When Roger pulled up in his rusty, old van, Brian could have burst into tears. He was alternating between burning up and freezing, and a light layer of sweat clung to his skin. He couldn’t stop trembling, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. His stomach was feeling particularly violent once again, and the longer he stood the more horrible he felt. Seeing that van sputtering up to him was a major relief.

He was about to crawl into the van when Roger stepped out and hurried over to the brunette. “Are you alright?” Roger asked, slamming his hand against Brian’s forehead. “Do you want to lay down in the back?”

Brian pulled away. “I just want to go home, Rog.”

“Alright,” the blond nodded. “Okay, let’s go home. Give me that.”

Brian felt his bag being lifted off of him, and then he heard it hit the backseat with a soft thud. Brian eased himself into the seat and let his head fall onto the headrest, his eyes drifting closed. Roger shut the door for his boyfriend and made his way back to the driver’s seat.

“How bad are you?” Roger asked, putting the vehicle into drive.

Brian groaned. “Did I get hit by a bus? Because that’s how it fucking feels.”

“You look pretty run-down.”

“Yeah,” Brian swallowed, opening his eyes. “My head is killing me, and I’m fucking freezing.”

“You felt pretty warm. Here, let me feel again, lean over here.”

Brian obeyed. Shifting in his seat, he bowed his head closer to Roger, who immediately brushed the palm of his hand over the poodle’s forehead. “Yep,” Roger affirmed. “That’s a fever.”

Brian frowned as he moved to curl up against the van door. “Can you turn the heat on?”

“It is on,” Roger responded, giving the other man a concerned glance.

“Turn it up, then?” Brian sounded so pitiful as he asked.

“It’s all the way up,” Roger stated, his concern rising. “I’m boiling.”

“Not me,” Brian muttered. His head was resting against the window, bouncing with every bump.

They were nearing the parking lot for the flat now. Brian lifted his head up from the window and brushed his hand over his cheeks. “We’re really strapped for cash right now, aren’t we, Rog?”

“Where did that come from?” asked the blond. The van was coming to a rocky stop, and Roger flung the door open and hopped out.

Brian didn’t move. He heard Roger digging out the bag, then the door opened beside him. His stomach ached awfully, and now he could feel a heavy soreness in his muscles that ran deep into his bones.

“Bri?”

“I’ll need a new textbook,” he answered, tossing his legs over the side of the van and hopping out. “I ruined the other one.”

Roger sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s fine,” he said finally. “We’ll figure it out.”

Truth be told, they couldn’t afford to replace that textbook-- or any textbook, really. The flat was barely being paid for, and that was with income being brought in from four people. Keeping the flat stocked with necessities made the budget even tighter. Roger would be lucky to pay for _his_ books for the next semester. Replacing Brian’s-- which would be needed for the second half of his course-- was really going to put them under financial strain.

“Let’s go,” he smiled, faking just enough happiness to keep Brian from getting suspicious. “I’ll see about drawing you a bath.”

“Do we have anything for a bath?” Brian didn’t like sitting in stagnant water, but Roger could sometimes make it bearable.

“I don’t know,” answered the blond. “That’s why I said I’ll see about it.”

Brian led the way up to the flat with Roger close behind. When they finally got to the right number, Roger reached out to open the door. It flung open before he could even touch the handle, revealing a very concerned Freddie.

“Bri, darling!” the man exclaimed, throwing his arms around Brian. “How are you feeling?”

“Like if you keep shouting and don’t let me go, I’ll puke on you,” Brian mumbled, prying himself free.

Freddie took a step back. “What do you want me to do, love?” His question was directed to Roger.

Brian tentatively stepped inside of the flat and collapsed into the rugged sofa. Roger dropped the bag on the table and walked the short hallway to the bathroom. Freddie followed the blond.

“Darling? What can I do?”

Roger was digging around the bathroom in search of something. “Do we have any soaps?” he asked. “Salts? Anything for a bath?”

“We should,” Freddie replied.

Roger sat back and sighed. “Where? I don’t see any.”

Freddie stepped into the room and pulled out a small bottle of salts. He handed that to Roger and asked, “Is that good? Or do you want more?”

“Do you _have_ more?” Roger asked.

Freddie laughed. “Darling, do you even know me?”

Roger found the plug for the tub and pushed it in. Freddie brought over a few more bottles and set them down on the side of the tub for Roger to choose from. “My whole collection, dear.”

“Jesus, Fred. Why do you have so many?”

“I like to treat myself, love. There’s no shame in that.”

Roger nodded as he dumped some salts into the water. He glanced at some of the options Freddie had laid out. “I can’t believe you have bloody _options_.”

“I like mixing these two. It’s really naturesce.” As he spoke, Freddie pointed at an orange bottle and then a green one. Roger lifted both bottles and examined them.

“Mango and eucalyptus?” Roger asked, giving Freddie an odd look.

“Do you want it or not, love?”

Roger poured a little out of each bottle and stirred it together with his hand. He was about to stand up to get his curly-headed idiot of a boyfriend but Freddie had already left and returned with Brian.

Standing next to Freddie, Brian looked even sicker than he had when Roger first picked him up. He had his eyes shut, and where Freddie kept a hand on his shoulder, Brian leaned into the touch. His shivering was visibly pronounced.

Roger took the sick man from Freddie and-- after having to lightly push the bigger man out of the room-- shut the door. Brian sat on the lid of the toilet with his head resting on his hands. Roger could see dark circles around his eyes that gave Brian a slight resemblance to a panda.

“Come on, Bri,” he coaxed with a gentle touch of the man’s shoulder. “Bath’s ready.”

“I don’t feel well, Rog.”

“I know,” soothed the blond. “But this will help.”

Brian gave a doubtful glance at his boyfriend, but he still tugged off his shirt and tossed it at the laundry basket. He missed, and as Roger picked it up, Brian rose on shaking legs to test the water’s temperature.

“Pants too,” Roger reminded, only half-teasing.

Brian cast a quick look and shook his head. “I’m sick and all you’re thinking about is seeing me naked.”

“I wish,” Roger sighed. He reached around the brunette’s waist and began to undo the jeans. “Today, I’m just trying to make you feel a little better.” He slid the denim down, prompting Brian to step away.

“Maybe I should do it?”

“Are you actually going to do it, or are you just going to keep standing there?”

Brian gave Roger a timid look. “Think you could step out for a moment?”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked, Bri.”

Brian insisted. “Please, Rog?”

“Fine,” the blond sighed. “But I’m going to be right outside that door. Got it?”

“Thank you.”

“Just hurry up and get your ass in, okay?”

Brian waited for Roger to shut the door before he finished stripping and crawled into the tub. The water felt warm, and the soap felt fantastic. The scent was even better. It was a scent very similar to a blooming garden, a perfect mix of both sweet and strong. It was very relaxing.

Brian shut his eyes and let his head rest against the cool porcelain of the tub. After a few minutes, he heard the door crack open. “How long does it take you to get your pants off?” Roger called, sounding annoyed.

“They’re off,” Brian answered absently. “I’m already in.”

Roger stepped inside. When he saw Brian laying against the tub, he knelt down and started carding his fingers through the brunette’s curls. They sat like that, in silence, until Roger noticed the bubbles beginning to fade and the water starting to cool. Then, he very gently guided Brian’s head into the bath water.

“After this,” he said, although the blond honestly doubted that Brian was listening, “I’m thinking we’ll get you into bed and get some medicine in you. Fluids too. How sick were you?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Brian muttered.

Roger sighed. “I need to know how ill you are.” They really couldn’t afford for Brian to need to go to the doctor.

The poodle turned away. “Bad.”

“You can trust me,” Roger whispered. He scubbed his fingers over Brian’s scalp, trying his best to rinse out the shampoo without getting any of the other soap in the curly mess of tangles.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Brian repeated. “Are we done yet? I want to lay down.”

Roger grabbed a bath towel and set it out for Brian. Standing to leave the room, he muttered, “Yeah, we’re done.”

Brian watched him leave.


	3. You Don't Know What It Means To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **God, do I love this. This is actually the chapter I kind of envisioned in my head that inspired this fic. You know, after the original inspiration came from my Government teacher telling us about a kid getting hammered right before school and totally covering the front row. But. I didn't want a drunk fic. Yet. We'll get there.**   
>  **I hope you're enjoying this, loves! Don't forget to comment and kudos ♥♥**

Brian was curled under a giant nest of blankets, his arm thrown out and wrapped around a crumpled comforter. He buried his face into the soft fluff of the blanket. He was face-down on the pile, dozing lightly. The bedroom was dark, and every time Brian did happen to wake up it took him almost no time to fall back asleep.

He was somewhere between sleep and coherency when he felt the bed jolt beside him, followed by a warm body landing against him. “You know,” he heard Roger sigh beside him, and then the blond rolled onto his side. “You have a really good boyfriend.”

“Do I?” Brian mumbled around the blanket.

Roger nodded. “Your boyfriend left lecture early to come and get you. He ran you an amazing bath and helped you get in bed. He’s taking care of you, and all he wants is for you to feel better.”

“Yeah,” Brian muttered drowsily, “I have a fantastic boyfriend.”

“And you know what else?” Roger asked, nudging Brian’s shoulder.

Brian lifted his head and cracked bleary eyes at the blond. “What else?” he asked.

Roger sat up and ran his fingers across the brunette’s back. “Your awesome boyfriend went ahead and bought you this.” Brian lifted his faze up and squinted into the darkness until his eyes fell on a giant book Roger had stopped stroking him to pick up. Roger continued, “While I was paying for it, the strangest thing happened.”

“Yeah?” Brian asked.

“I met the girl you puked on. You know, that you didn’t tell me about.”

Brian groaned and buried his face into the blanket once more. “Go away,” he moaned. He absently swatted in the blond’s general direction, trying to wave him away.

Roger only laughed and, having set the book down, continued to rub Brian’s back. “You should have told me what happened, Bri.”

“So that you could tease me about it? No, thank you. I’m good.” As he spoke, Brian shivered into the covers and tossed the blanket over his head.

Roger immediately pulled the covers back down. “Not with a fever, you don’t.”

“Leave me alone. I want sleep.”

Roger successfully wrestled the covers away and, pushing them aside, wrapped his arms around Brian. Both men were shirtless, much to the blond’s amusement. He would have enjoyed it far more had the brunette been feeling well, but at the same time, he wasn’t _not_ enjoying it, either.

“Want some medicine? Some tea?” Roger asked, lifting a hand to play with Brian’s tight curls.

The sick man shook his head. “Stomach’s bothering me too much.”

“I think you should at least try some tea,” Roger suggested. “Or water. Something hydrating.”

“Not right now.”

Roger looked ready to argue, but stopped when he noticed how harshly his boyfriend was shaking. Sliding his hand down against Brian’s forehead, he frowned. He was nearly certain that the man’s fever had climbed.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, brushing back the tangled hair. “Better? Worse?”

“Like I want to sleep some more,” Brian answered, turning his head to look at the blond.

Roger gave an understanding nod and started to move off of the bed, but Brian quickly flung himself onto the blond, burying his face into Roger’s neck.

“Don’t go,” Brian pleaded quietly.

Roger wrapped a protective arm around Brian. “I’m not,” he reassured. After a tiny pause in which Roger debated whether or not to do it, he added, “But if I catch whatever the fuck this thing is, I’m going to kill you.”

“Can’t kill me if the bacteria does it first,” Brian pointed out, making Roger smile.

“Actually, I think you’ve caught a virus. Bacteria isn’t usually this fast progressing.”

“Nerd,” Brian smiled. His eyes were slowly drooping shut.

“Sometimes, lecture manages to teach me things. It isn’t often, but it happens.”

When Brian didn’t say anything in response, Roger looked down at him and smiled. The young poodle had fallen asleep. Careful not to wake the man, Roger stretched out in a position where they were both lying down. Keeping his arm around Brian, he let his own eyes fall shut.

* * * * *

Roger was jolted awake by Brian launching himself out of the bed. For a short moment, the blond sat in shock. Then it occurred to him that he should probably follow his boyfriend, and he also jumped out of bed.

“Bri?”

When Roger found him, he was curled up against the wall of the bathroom, eyes shut and face flushed. Freddie watched from the hallway with giant eyes. When he saw Roger, Freddie relaxed a little. “Do you want me to make tea?”

“He said he didn’t want any earlier,” Roger responded, slipping into the bathroom.

Brian was shaking like a leaf in a rainstorm. Roger grabbed a washcloth and dampened it, then placed it against his boyfriend’s forehead. “Want a drink?”

Brian shook his head. “I want it to stop hurting.”

“Is it pain or nausea?”

“Both,” Brian swallowed, beginning to lean over.

Roger dropped onto the floor beside Brian and dragged the damp cloth across the other man’s cheek. “It’ll pass. Just hang in there.”

“Do I have any other option?” Brian moaned. He sat back and leaned against the wall once more.

Roger wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He really just wanted to take Brian to the doctor, but he knew that that wouldn’t go over very well. He pulled the cloth away. “Do you want to lay down?”

“I really don’t feel like puking in my bed, Rog.”

“I could grab a bucket? Or a trash bin?” Roger _really_ just wanted Brian to lay down.

“No,” gasped the brunette. He pitched forward again, this time gagging over the bowl.

Roger rubbed Brian’s back, entirely uncertain. He waited as his boyfriend coughed and retched, every muscle in the man’s body fighting against him. Freddie walked in right as Brian’s stomach gave out, and the man winced at the sound.

“I made tea,” he announced. His voice lacked a certain flamboyancy to it, and both men noticed. Neither one said anything to Freddie about this, however.

“You didn’t have to--” Roger started, but Freddie cut the blond off.

Handing the cup to Brian, he explained, “Mint. It should help, darling.”

“I really don’t want it right now, Fred.”

“You have to drink something, love.”

Brian turned to Roger for back-up. He didn’t get it. “Freddie’s right. If you don’t stay hydrated, we’ll have to go to the hospital.”

“Why can’t I drink it later?”

“Because,” Roger started, brushing a caring hand across his beloved’s cheek, “it _is_ later.”

“Please, Rog,” Brian begged. “Don’t make me yet.”

“He’s not, love. I am.”

Roger turned to Freddie. He couldn’t have been more grateful if he tried. Freddie was still holding the cup out to Brian, who took it begrudgingly and brought it to his lips. He stalled, giving Roger a final, pleading glance.

“You don’t have to do all of it,” Roger said, trying to help. Brian still seemed unhappy as he sipped the warm liquid.

Two sips in, he set the cup down and shifted uncomfortably. His arm tightened anxiously around his abdomen, and he carefully pushed the cup away.

“More than that, love,” Freddie ordered.

Brian shook his head. “I’ll get sick.”

“You haven’t yet,” Roger pointed out, but Brian fell against the blond and shook his head again.

“I want to lay back down. Then finish it.”

Before Freddie could try anything else, Roger helped his boyfriend stand and grabbed the tea. “Alright, Bri,” he said gently. “Bed, then a few more sips. Okay?”

“ _M_ ,” Brian mumbled, leaning against Roger. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Roger is just so sweet!!! And poor Bri is practically dying!**   
>  **Don't forget to comment and kudos, darlings! I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks so much for reading!!**

**Author's Note:**

> **I hope you're liking it so far! Don't forget to comment and kudos, and thanks for reading :)**   
>  **Feel free to give suggestions/requests for more, especially sickfics. Although the Misfits category will probably contain just about anything I feel like fucking writing, darlings ;)**
> 
> **Hey, this part of my little note is new! And it's going to be everywhere for a little while: Your beloved Kato was hacked darlings, multiple times! Her stuff was removed, even her pseud deleted, her passwords repeatedly changed. It's been a mess. Someone wants to shut me down! But we aren't going to let that happen, are we darlings? Nope! So,**   
>  **Enjoy the reupload! Kato out! xoxo**


End file.
